teabowl

There’s an incredible feature of Toronto that I’m only discovering now: ravines. Before I moved to Toronto, this wasn’t even part of my vocabulary. A ravine is a small valley, often with an active stream, found in urban areas. Turns out the Toronto ravine system is quite extensive and provides beautiful pockets of green woodland in the middle of the city.

This weekend, a brisk, restorative walk through David A. Balfour Park and the “Vale of Avoca” ravine (who names these things? :) yielded these pictures. Sadly, I didn’t have my regular camera with me, so the contrast is pretty bad in these over-exposed phonecam pics. I want to go back and take detailed pictures of the graffiti everywhere.

As you can see, it’s a strange, almost mystical place, unexpected in the middle of the city bustle. On a misty day, you half expect to encounter fairies dressed in camo pants, or a group of trolls smoking weed near the riverbed.

There are multiple undocumented but reasonably well-maintained paths, some further up the slopes, some right down in the middle near the stream. What’s particularly delightful about this ravine is that it’s mostly empty, even on a beautiful, warm spring Sunday like yesterday. I think the ‘urban grit’ puts off many of the more middle class leisure walkers (who might prefer the Kay Gardner Beltline Park, a long linear trail of about 5km that occupies an old commuter train track from the 1890s). But it’s quiet (the city’s hum seems far away) and the air is good.

When I left the park, a bicycle cop was writing up two young men at the exit. One, a twenty-something with a red nose, bike messenger clothes, a bike and slurred speech advised me not to drink “down there” because he just got a ticket. I didn’t quite know what to say and mumbled something about “just walking.”

I think this blend of trees, trails, graffiti, concrete and urban decay is fantastic. Wear solid shoes.

Eagles

Eagles. Elektra / Wea 2003, Audio CD, $13.99

Mirrors on the ceiling | Pink champagne on ice | And she said, “We are all just prisoners here, of our own device.”

This is a confession of sorts. I really like the Eagles. I know I’m not supposed to. It’s just not cool. Mainstream rock circa 1976 is like mainstream country today. In fact, much new country sounds distinctly rockier than the Eagles. After punk, New Wave, the 80s, the 90s and the 00s, this music just doesn’t have a place anymore. It doesn’t fit. Old people listen to it. The Eagles are still touring, as a very expensive nostalgia act. After disbanding in the early 80s, they made two quite successful ‘comeback’ albums, Hell Freezes Over in 1994, and the Walmart-only Long Road out of Eden in 2007. Both were reasonably well received, but in that slightly shocked, “It’s not quite terrible! It’s not embarrassing!” kind of way that ‘comeback’ albums are often reviewed these days. They’re competent, journeymanlike productions full of the latest studio techniques, made by artists past their prime. 60 is the new 30.

But when the Eagles were in their prime, they were immensely competent songwriters, assured, even exciting performers, and they made great records. I was born in 1970 with no older siblings, so I have no ‘original’ recollection of any of this. I discovered them ‘on my own.’ Well, I think I taped Eagles Live off of my friend Marc’s dad’s record collection. Then, a little later, I bought it on tape. For some reason, that was the one I latched on to. Reviewing the band’s history and discography now, I realize that this first foray was very much at the tail end of their career and I was listening to a band that was already no longer particularly cohesive. Maybe they never were. Too many drugs and other trappings of Southern California rockstardom.

Even though it’s inexcusable for anyone who professes to write about music on the web to admit to liking them, the Eagles were of course deeply influential, and their aesthetic (coupled, maybe, with the Beach Boys and CSN&Y) permeates every aspect of what we call country and ‘country rock’ today. Even still-active bands in related genres that are beyond a shadow of a doubt ‘credible,’ like Blue Rodeo, Wilco or Carl Newman’s New Pornographers, are more than a little indebted to the Eagles’ way of marrying country/folk harmonies to danceable, old-style rock ‘n’ roll. And their classic songs, themselves distilled archetypes built from classic country and continuing a journey begun by Gram Parsons, the Byrds, Creedence Clearwater Revival and others, have become models for much of what followed.

Like mid-70s Fleetwood Mac (another guilty pleasure I proudly admit to and whose defense I’ll write up one of these days), the production values of records like Hotel California are fantastically detailed and flawlessly well thought out. I’m not sure whether I should say they demonstrate studio mastery: they probably do, but given the incredibly long months/years these artists spent in the studio, I have to imagine productivity was quite low. Whether that was because the equipment - though expensive and great - was cumbersome to use, or whether there were other factors (dissent in the ranks, drugs, too much free time) is unclear to me. Either way, the resulting records sound like studio magic. They have an unmatched clarity (well, I think there are some ‘matches,’ like the Mac’s Rumours…), an anologue warmth and a very spacious balance. They also have real drama.

The Very Best of Eagles is a very nice package and, I think, worth getting for even the most unconvinced Indie listener who’d never consider listening to the Eagles. To understand why you’re manning the barricades, it’s often interesting to return to before the revolution and be open to things as they were then. If you like Carl Newman’s full harmonies/wall-of-sound approach, you might wonder where that came from. This is where. The other audience demographic (to use labelspeak) that would probably really enjoy listening to this is the ‘urban country’ crowd in small towns all over North America. The reason the Eagles are on classic rock format radio and country stations rarely play them is related to formulaic corporate programming norms (and taxonomies created by music historians) rather than any base in reality.

There’s a certain 1970s superstar fabulousness to what the Eagles may sing about; an imagined hippie America that was, even then, probably an entirely mythical place.

Take it easy, take it easy | Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy […]

Or, of course, a little further along in the same number, the always-classic lines:

I’m a standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona | I’m such a fine sight to see | It’s a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford | Slowin’ down to take a look at me | Come on baby, don’t say maybe […]

These situations and sentiments are both completely familiar and completely strange to us now. That’s because the Eagles (and various country/rock predecessors and cohorts) invented them. As a band, they are perhaps the final truly commercial embodiment of this ethic.

After them, popular music changed forever. It fragmented, renewed itself a hundred times; and with each split and rebirth came layers and layers of judgment about what had come before. Now, in 2008, it’s still ‘common knowledge’ that you’re not supposed to think the Eagles are cool. If you’re over 35, you can maybe get away with listening to them and liking them (in your own car, with the windows rolled up… and maybe with the volume lowered a little when you pull up at an intersection just to make sure nobody outside overhears you). But you’re certainly not allowed to think they’re cool. Given the quality of their music, it’s essentially irrelevant whether they were ever cool. Theirs is a great, lasting body of song that should be heard.

Candi Staton

Candi Staton. Emd Int’l 2004, Audio CD, $18.96

Candi Staton is a “southern soul” singer who recorded several albums for Fame Records in famous Muscle Shoals, Alabama (where many others, like Aretha Franklin, recorded with the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section). Candi Staton came from a gospel background and only turned herself into a secular singer relatively late in life (in her 30s).

This compilation contains 26 incredible pieces of music that clearly and definitively affirm her (to me, at least) as the equal of Aretha Franklin. Every performance is heartfelt and comes from a place of knowledge: she’s lived the stories in these songs. As a result, she’s not so much ‘interpreting’ them than simply asserting their truth through her performance.

After these 60/70s records, Candi Staton changed record labels (to Warner), turned disco (presumably to stay relevant) and recorded “Young Hearts Run Free,” a sort of perennial retro disco favourite and not at all a good indication of who she is as a singer. In the 80s, it appears that some tough personal relationships (and the resulting alcohol or drug abuse) eventually made her quit secular music and return to gospel. She founded her own ministry, recorded some very successful albums and was nominated for a few Grammys.

His Hands

Candi Staton. Astralwerks 2006, Audio CD, $5.15

In 1996, she returned to secular music with His Hands, a quiet return to southern soul produced by Lambchop’s Mark Nevers. It received mixed, but mostly positive reviews. It’s worth listening to, if only because it’s an interesting example of ‘aging gracefully’ in the music industry, like Loretta Lynn’s co-operation with Jack White, or Dolly Parton’s lovely bluegrass albums of the early 2000s.

Found this quote from Beverley Knight, while I’m on the topic of Beverley Knight. I’ve often thought that I don’t understand people who don’t like music.

She’s talking about singing in front of the G8 leaders in 2006:

“Wow! Now, I’ve been in front of some pretty disparate audiences, but singing for the leaders of the free world was quite extraordinary. The only one who wasn’t there - and he was conspicuous by his absence - was Dubya.” She puts on a manly Texas accent: “Cause he don’t like music, apparently, he prefers sporrrrt.” And then back to her Wolverhampton voice: “Alright mate! I’m suspicious of people who don’t like music. How the hell does that work? Tell me you don’t like some kinds of music. Don’t tell me you don’t like music, because that’s kind of weird. Tony Blair and Cherie were there giving me the thumbs up, totally into it. Putin was there - now, when I say that man’s face didn’t crack, I mean, it was scary.”

Interview from the Guardian.

Voice

Beverley Knight. EMI Int’l 2006, Audio CD, $7.01

Who I Am

Beverley Knight (Performer). 2002, Audio CD, $10.49

Affirmation

Beverley Knight. EMI Int’l 2006, Audio CD, $14.00

Beverley Knight is an immensely talented R&B singer from the UK who is completely unknown in North America. This is a great shame because she’s incredibly gifted, accomplished and, frankly, as good as or better than Beyoncé and Mary J. Blige. Beverley Knight should be more widely known and definitely belongs in the same class of divas.

Even though you’ll have to buy them as imports if you’re in Canada or the US, there are several Beverley Knight records I’d wholeheartedly recommend. The best starting point is probably Voice: The Best of Beverley Knight. According to Amazon.com, this contains 11 UK top 40 singles, and I don’t doubt that for a minute given the quality of the music on this disc. It’s a must-have career-to-date overview, spanning earlier material that’s heavily R&B/dancefloor oriented and later tunes that are more ‘retro’ in orientation (and remind me a little of golden-age Tina Turner).

Through it all, there’s Beverley’s magnificent voice: her singing is less runs-oriented than other contemporary female singers, and her vocal embellishments are more strongly typed and intelligently targeted at causing specific expressive effects. Speculating for a minute, this could be because Ms. Knight learned to sing in church. Wikipedia says,

Knight was born of Jamaican parents, and she grew up in a strict Pentecostal household where church attendance was commonplace. It is here where she began her singing career: “the first time I heard music would have been in church. My mum was often called upon: ‘Come on sister Dolores. Lead us in song!’ Singing was the most natural thing in the world. I thought, doesn’t everybody’s mum lead the congregation at church in song?” Knight continued singing in her local church throughout her childhood, and her musical education was continued at home where she was often exposed to gospel music.

For those wishing to dive deeper into Beverley Knight’s music, I would recommend Who I Am and Affirmation. Both present a very palatable mix of R&B and chart-oriented pop - so they work for ears looking for big hooks, not just those deeply immersed in the R&B paradigm.

Music City Soul

Beverley Knight. Parlophone Int’l 2007, Audio CD, $8.44

On her latest offering, Music City Soul, Knight ventures even further into classic soul territory. Recorded in Nashville with a band of veteran R&B players, this record sounds more ‘acoustic’ and showcases her gospel voice beautifully. In a BBC interview referenced on Wikipedia, Knight says,

My mother played Sam Cooke and he was the first voice I ever heard on record. His was the first voice that directly had a big impact on me, vocally. He still makes me cry. He’d take the very simple Bible stories that I grew up with and just make them into a two-and-a-half-minute song and yet with an intensity and a passion that the world had never heard before. He really was a major influence on my life.

Beverley Knight’s increasingly classicist R&B is fantastic music that begs to be heard. Too ’straight’ and perhaps a little too old-fashioned to become successful in a North American market where ‘R&B’ is a category that (puzzlingly) also contains the Pussycat Dolls and Nelly Furtado’s terrible Loose, Knight’s records make a strong case for proper singing.

My naturopathic doctor told me to start drinking at least 1.5 liters of water every day, and three cups/mugs of green tea. (I think the idea is that I’m supposed to stop drinking coffee altogether, eventually.)

So I set out to find a good quality, simple, bagged China green tea that would make office use easy (I prefer loose leaf teas, but they’re just not practical for office use. And they’re a little bit precious :)

At Whole Foods Market, I came across “The People’s Green Tea,” an everyday China green by Republic of Tea. There are 50 unbleached tea bags in a tube-like package with a resealable lid.

This tea’s main characteristics are that it’s high quality but truly ordinary - making it easy to drink in a variety of scenarios. I’m drinking it for breakfast, and then a few more cups during the day, at the office. It’s very pleasant. And that’s pretty much all I can say about it.

There. My first blog post about tea :)

What a beautiful bowl from Peru. Creative Commons licensed photo by Dozenist.

Crocs are strangely compelling. I’ll make a confession up front: I’ve just bought my first pair after resisting them for the last few years. Like this blog, I thought they were ugly and cheap looking. Shoes made of injection-moulded rubbery plastic seemed like another indicator of the impending apocalypse. It did seem that shoes like these should never grace the feet of anyone over the age of five.

But Crocs have had a strange victory march, certainly through North American society. And this has been despite a variety of alarmist high-exposure news reports about them. For example, Maclean’s (Canada’s very own, low-rent version of Time magazine) ran an exposé about how Crocs in healthcare (where they are very popular) are endangering both patients and staff. Says Maclean’s:

An increasing number of hospitals and health centres are moving toward banning Crocs and Crocs knock-offs from their facilities for fear the shoes have endangered both patients and staff. The main offenders appear to be the popular Beach and Cayman models, which have holes on top, side vents and a back strap rather than a closed heel. They allegedly have been responsible for infection control hazards because bodily fluids such as blood have spilled into the holes. Staff have reportedly twisted ankles because of the open back. And staff reaction times are said to be compromised because it’s suspected that clogs are more difficult to run in than traditional hospital footwear.

And you do see them everywhere in hospitals. I’ve been spending a bit of time lately at Toronto’s Sick Kids children’s hospital, and I would say - estimating anecdotally and visually - that 50-70% of all staff seem to have them on their feet. They come in all sorts of colours, to match various flavours of scrubs, and you can sort of understand how walking around on something soft, wide and washable would make sense in a hospital. As for running or infections… well, sure. You might have to slip them off if they call a code and run on your socks, and you may have to throw them into the washing machine once in a while.

Horror stories from outside of healthcare abound, too. For example, CityNews reports about a four-year-old Toronto boy who almost lost a toe in an escalator:

Duncan was at Sherway Gardens with his family, coming up an escalator when suddenly one of his Crocs got stuck between the moving stairs and the stationary wall. His mother quickly figured out what was happening, but not before his shoes were forever ruined. “I dropped my shopping bag and ripped his foot out,” recalls Duncan’s mother, Karen Goodfellow.

And the Japanese have actually issued a government warning to let people know that Crocs can get kids’ feet stuck in escalators.

All of this sounds a bit like sour grapes, doesn’t it? Like alarm bells rung by those that are aesthetically offended.

I’ll admit that they’re perhaps not the most pleasing shoes to the eye. And - being German - I’m partial to Birkenstocks, the original manufactured clog (we’ll leave out Dutch wood-sole clogs for the purpose of expedience here). Birkenstocks are shaped ergonomically (and have been, for a hundred years), look good and can be worn as sandals in the summer and slippers in the winter. But: I’ve discovered that they can become smelly and stained pretty fast because of all their natural materials (leather, cork, etc.). And, while Birkenstock offers the ability to replace the footbed, this is a costly process which - in my experience - doesn’t work very well.

So the idea of wearing an anatomically shaped, anti-bacterial, disposable, $35 clog is sort of appealing. Plus Crocs are completely vegetarian/vegan-friendly. And now you can even buy a recycled, post-consumer version (but those only come in a putrid grey that’s truly, deeply ugly).

I’ll see how I actually do this summer… I may flounder and go back to my Birkenstocks when I’m finally confronted with my size M12/13 pair of brown Caymans on my feet, paired with shorts and no socks. That’s why I have the big mirror in my hallway. Just so that I can be mortified at myself before I leave the house.

This Gift

Sons & Daughters. Domino 2008, Audio CD, $9.38

So I think this is my first album of the year (not that ‘albums of the year’ mean anything around here). But Sons & Daughters‘ new record, This Gift, really resonates with me - and did so right out of the box. I’ve liked this band right from when I first heard them (I forget how it was that I came across them) and have enjoyed their EP Love The Cup and first full-length, The Repulsion Box, since they’ve been out (2004 and 2005, respectively).

Formed by members of Arab Strap, these four have been described as a “co-ed quartet.” Comprised of two women and two men, they play a hard-driving kind of garage rock with oddball folk, country and 60s girl-group influences - operating somewhere at the nexus of the B52’s, early Supremes (okay, only a little bit), The Go-Go’s and Nick Cave.

I had previously fallen in love with the feisty Scottish country-punk of their earlier offerings, such as ‘Dance me in’ from Repulsion Box. The principle then seemed to be to play a very dancefloor-oriented flavour of indie rock (although PopMatters takes issue with classifying Sons & Daughters as ‘indie’ and they have a bit of a point). The ‘top notes’ of the earlier material were characterized by shared vocals between Adele Bethel (lead singer) and Scott Paterson (guitars, vocals), and a sometimes folky/country-inflected instrumentation and a ‘circle song’ feeling on several numbers (though maybe that was simply because a lot of the material was so two-chord simple as to induce a toe-trapping trance…).

The new disc is both a departure from the original sound and a very focused, smart further development of it. Produced by Bernard Butler (Suede), it’s a rockier, crunchier affair; it has the same sharpness and presence (basically, treble) that the Suede and McAlmont & Butler discs had. It’s also more oriented towards rock and 60s girl groups than previous efforts. And there’s a lot less singing by Scott Paterson. The songs are better developed, too, resulting in a more coherent, poppier, complete album. And all of this is to good effect.

While Pitchfork observes that it’s “perhaps too far in the red too much of the time,” I think that’s its charm. It’s springtime and rock ‘n’ roll is supposed to be louder this time of year. Shake loose the last bits of snow, crank open the windows and drive out the musty smells in your apartment. And turn up Sons & Daughters. You’ll like them.